


bridge of magpies

by JazzApples



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Blood, Character Death, Ladyhawke AU, M/M, Mildly Graphic Violence, They/Them Pronouns for My Unit | Byleth, au where byleth doesn't go to garreg mach and just stays a mercenary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25516705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzApples/pseuds/JazzApples
Summary: When Byleth is hired by a mysterious man for a near suicidal attack on Garreg Mach, they become embroiled in the fate of a war, and a vengeful curse.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	bridge of magpies

The war in Fódlan had been at a stalemate for a while now. The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was too well fortified on the southern and western borders by the fortress Arianrhod and was unassailable. The only route into the Leicester Alliance was at the Great Bridge of Myrddin, which was also strongly fortified. And on the other side of the conflict, the Adrestian Empire had shored up the defences at Fort Merceus at Gronder to prevent a foothold into Imperial territory by the combined forces of Faerghus and Leicester.

But therein lay the problem.

The Imperial War Council had hoped to stir up enough chaos between the nations of Faerghus and Leicester in the hope that they would be too busy conflicting with each other to give their full attention to the conquests of the Empire. While news on a coalition between the opposing nations was quiet at first in the early days of the war, giving hope that both Faerghus and Leicester were too busy managing their own internal affairs to form a partnership, this would prove to be wrong at the Second Battle of Garreg Mach. The forces sent to retake the monastery flew the banner of House Blaiddyd; the tactics used by the Kingdom forces during the battle bore all the hallmarks of the Duke Riegan, and probably also behind the earlier silence regarding the coalition.

That day had been a huge blow to Imperial forces. Defences on the borders of Faerghus and Leicester had been hugely boosted by the addition of the garrison at Garreg Mach, and the Faerghus-Leicester Coalition had an straight path to assail Fort Merceus. With the combined forces of two nations, it was an inevitability that the Adrestian Empire would be crushed before the year was out.

The Emperor Edelgard was fiercely intent on getting Garreg Mach back.

Hubert’s covert intelligence told her that the Coalition’s war council convened every week, with Duke Riegen, the newly crowned King of Faerghus, and all the allied lords in attendance. That was more skilled fighters than the Empress was willing to face at once.

But, most importantly, while all the lords rode back to their territories or front lines, likely being needed there, the King and Duke remained in residence at Garreg Mach. While Edelgard loathed to face two old friends, this was an opportunity she could not miss.

While she prepared her armies to advance on Garreg Mach, she sent Hubert ahead with a small, covert force of his own. He eliminated any resistance inside; she took out the rest of the garrison in the chaos.

It was perfect.

...

After the battle, Hubert swept the second floor of the monastery, stepping around the corpses of fallen soldiers.

In the end it had been almost easy. The chaos and paranoia caused by several teleporting dark mages distracted attention from Hubert raising the gates and sabotaging the ballistae. The rest was history. All that was left to do was to find and dispose of any survivors, and confirm the deaths of the two Coalition leaders.

Hubert paused outside one room; in it he could hear raised voices bickering. Kicking aside a dead soldier and being careful not to slip on slick blood splatters, he pushed open the door.

The room was not one he had seen the interior of before at Garreg Mach; the tables were arranged to form a square on which were hastily burned battle plans. The war room, it seemed. More dead bodies decorated the stone flags, and in the middle of this mess were a group of Hubert’s mages. Or, rather, mages under _his_ command; he was not going to lay claim to mages from _that_ group anytime soon.

Currently these imbeciles were gathered around having some sort of hushed debate, clearly too preoccupied to notice Hubert’s presence that he made no effort to mask. 

He loomed behind the group. “What is the meaning of this?” Hubert demanded, and secretly relished the noticeable shock (and perhaps terror) of the pack of lax idiots.

When they turned, his gaze was met with nervous and fearful looks. Hubert’s eyes narrowed. He was sure he wasn’t going to like this.  
The ringleader of the merry band quickly schooled his expression into that of mild annoyance. “Commander, there is nothing to report in this section.” The lie was almost believable.

“Hmm.” Hubert mused. “Well, reports have come in from every other section that has been swept, and none have reported the bodies of the King and Duke Riegan. Obviously, there must have been some… _mismanagement_.”

He delighted when the façade of the group slipped and some openly trembled at his mood.

“So,” Hubert continued, “ _Don’t_.” He took a step forward. “ _Lie_.”

One of the warlocks broke at that point. “It’s not our fault!” he wailed, “Everything just happened so fast, I swear we didn’t mean for it to happen, it was all just an accident!”

He was quickly shushed by his fellows, some quickly glancing Hubert’s way as if to see if his reaction was favourable. It was not.

Ignoring the worried mages on either side of the hapless warlock, Hubert stalked up to his trembling form and grabbed the front of his robes.

“Tell. Me. Everything.”

…

It was with a heavy heart that Hubert approached the Emperor Edelgard, standing at the battlements of Garreg Mach and watching her soldiers hoist the double headed eagle of Adrestia. She acknowledged his arrival with a tilt of her head, settling in to wait for his report.

Hubert bowed his head to her. “The monastery is yours, Lady Edelgard.”

She nodded at the news. “And what of Dimitri and Claude?”

Hubert pursed his lips. That was all the answer she needed. She turned away from him again. “Tell me what happened.”

“They escaped. This failure is my own, Lady Edelgard. I can only beg your forgiveness.”

She only waited for him to continue.

“From what I gathered from the mages present, they found the two in the Cardinal’s chamber, and instead of killing them immediately, as would be the intelligent option, the mages from _that group_ decided to lay some sort of curse on them first, intending to kill them after they’d had their fun.

“Unfortunately… when those mages were distracted, the pair escaped out of a window and now they cannot be found.”

For an agonising moment, Edelgard didn’t speak. Then she turned fully away from the raising of her flags to look Hubert in the eyes.

‘These mages, did they say what, exactly, was the nature of this curse?”

Hubert shook his head. “All I could get out of the hapless warlock I questioned was some blubbering about ‘star crossed lovers’. Not much to go on, I am afraid Lady Edelgard.”

She hummed, her gaze going from piercing to distracted as she thought. “Well, regardless, we cannot have it getting out that our enemies have survived unless we want the combined forces of Faerghus and Leicester rallying again behind their banner. When word of the fall of Garreg Mach reaches the ears of the Coalition they will fear the worst with no word from their leaders. We must make sure that there _is_ no word from them to reach their allies. I want Dimitri and Claude found, fast, and discreetly. I trust you to carry this out Hubert.”

He bowed low to her, partially to hide the relief on his face at the chance to correct his mistakes.

“As you wish, Lady Edelgard.”

He took his leave of the Emperor then, leaving her to her banners as the encroaching sunset stained the stones of Garreg Mach the red of Adrestia.

* * *

A suspicious silence fell in the tavern when Byleth walked through the doors. They were expecting this; they were a stranger to the villagers, and they knew they had the tendency to unnerve others. Eventually, the patrons of the tavern went back to their chatter, but Byleth still felt their eyes on them as they walked to the bar.

At the bar, the landlord glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Upon seeing Byleth approach, he quickly pasted on his brightest business smile.

“Ah, welcome! What can I do for you?”

“A room, please.” Was the succinct answer.

“Would you like a meal with that?” the landlord continued as he rifled through a drawer for a key.

“Yes.”

If the landlord was in any way perturbed by Byleth’s curt answers, he didn’t show it, and waited patiently as Byleth paid.

Just as they were about to walk away, the landlord spoke up again suddenly. “Excuse me my good fellow, you wouldn’t happen to be the Ashen Demon? Just that, you match the description and we had heard you were in the area.”

Byleth blinked. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Ah good! We had a young man asking about you earlier. Maybe he wished to hire your services? Anyway, he’s out back I think, can’t miss him. Tall, has an eyepatch.”

Byleth stared for a second before nodding to the landlord and walking away to the back of the tavern. Opening the door they found a grassy area with several roughhewn benches, and the man the landlord must have been referring to.

Sitting down and polishing a lance, the man was already at Byleth’s shoulder height, and they imagined that if the stranger stood they would easily tower a whole head over them. Sitting with his back to Byleth, the most striking thing about him was a well-made royal blue cloak, stained with mud at the hum, and his black armour was well taken care of, but dented and scratched as if it had seen many battles, as was the lance he was maintaining. However, what drew Byleth’s eye next was the bird perched on his left gauntlet.

Byleth had met few falconers but, by their father’s instruction, they had a steady enough grasp of the law and local wildlife. Therefore, they knew that goshawks were, by law, only kept and trained by the nobility. They could only imagine the amount of trouble this stranger could get into if caught by the local guards with such a noble bird. Suddenly, the man’s seclusion away from the rest of the tavern made sense.

Intrigued more than ever by the potential client, Byleth approached the man and waited for their presence to be known. When he turned to look at them, he did not appear surprised to see them standing there. Byleth surmised that he must have heard them approach and judged them to not be a threat. Judging by the worn state of his armour, he must be rarely wrong to still be sitting here, especially with a reduced field of vision.

By his silence and focused glare, he waiting for them to speak first, so Byleth obliged. “I have been told you were asking about me.”

“Hm.” Was the reply. “I have heard of the Ashen Demon. You fit the description.”

“How did you know I would be here?”

He turned back to his lance. “I heard you had a job in the area. Sure enough, a large amount of bandits were found dead. The killing blows were consistent with the sword Armourslayer, a very unique bludgeoning sword which the Ashen Demon is famous for using. Merchant witnesses spoke of a fearsome warrior in black killing efficiently with not so much as an expression on their face. There is only one person that could be. Remire village is the closest settlement from the site of the job with a tavern so this is where I checked first. It was lucky that you actually came here.”

Byleth was silent for a moment, letting that analysis sink in. After a while, they wordlessly gestured to the bench as an invitation to sit. When the man did not object they made themselves as comfortable on hardwood as they could.

They gestured to the stranger’s armour and wickedly sharp lance. “You seem to be an experienced warrior yourself. Why seek out a mercenary?”

Only now did he stop his maintenance of lance (well made, only now did Byleth notice) and fix the full force of his gaze on them. Byleth only stared unblinkingly back in turn. Eventually, his eye drifted westwards, on towards Garreg Mach.

“This is something I cannot do alone. As much as it pains me to admit, I need help, and I need the best. I have heard that the Ashen Demon, child of the Blade Breaker himself, is the best there is, and I can make sure that you are compensated handsomely for your help.”

“Byleth.”

He turned to look at them again. “Hm?”

“My name. What do you want me to help you with?”

He was still staring at them but, to Byleth’s untrained eye, he appeared to relax just a fraction. “Storm Garreg Mach.”

Before Byleth could even comprehend such a statement, the hawk at the man’s arm suddenly started to shriek and fuss, flapping it’s wings. The man tossed the bird into the air, and it flew off, ascending into the air to wheel overhead. Byleth and the stranger watched it fly until it was a dark shadow against the sky.

Byleth turned to eye the man. “Will it come back?”

The man did not turn back to her, his eye still staring after the hawk. “It always comes back.” Byleth was almost taken aback by the strange tone of his voice. They could not quite discern just what kind of emotion was present, never being very good at such things, and so opted to wait in silence.

Eventually the man seemed to shake off what had come over him. “As I said, I plan to attack the Imperial garrison stationed at Garreg Mach and kill the Emperor, who has taken it as her main stronghold. However, my last attempts did not end well.” He gestured to his missing eye. “I have accepted that I cannot get any further by attacking their border defences by myself and they are starting to get wise to my movements. That’s where you come in. I’m hoping that someone with your skill and experience will lend me something that I lack, and that we will be successful this time.”

Byleth frowned to themselves. The retaking of Garreg Mach monastery for the Adrestian Empire had changed their tides in the war, allowing them to take Western Faerghus with relative ease, capturing their capital Fhirdiad. Morale had suffered greatly when the two leaders of the Coalition had been declared missing presumed dead, and at this point, the skirmishes on the borders of Gautier and Fraldarius were happening only on a matter of principle these days. With border skirmishes spreading to even Leicester, their unified front was splitting, with word being that Gloucester was soon to be declaring for Adrestia. All in all, war was good business for mercenaries, who saw an uptick in work from citizens who needed escorting through bandit infested roads, now that there were too few soldiers to do anything about the increasing number of people resorting to a life of thievery to survive.

But the part of Byleth that was not a mercenary, who was simply their father’s child, felt that a quick end to the war would also be a quick end to the suffering of so many, of all the disparaged peasants and commonfolk who felt the war hardest. Did Byleth not owe it to them to try this man’s radical plan?  
“Okay.” Byleth replied before their mind could catch up. “You have a deal.”

The man’s eye widened fractionally before he steeled himself again. He nodded. “Then I will see you in front of the tavern after sunrise tomorrow. We will set out then.”

Byleth nodded in reply and moved to leave. As they did though, the man spoke up again.

“Dimitri. That is my name.”

* * *

At dawn, Byleth stood outside the entrance to the tavern, waiting for Dimitri to arrive. He had said to meet after sunrise, which Byleth found to be rather vague in terms of timing, since technically the entire day was after sunrise, which is why they turned up early just in case. When they had awoken that morning in the grey pre-dawn haze, they remembered a troubled sleep filled with the howling of wolves, and not much more. Byleth supposed that was odd, since the Red Wolf Moon had been and gone, and it was much too far south for wolves to be seen all year round, but such a thought was pushed to the back of their mind as they packed. Now, standing under the new, pink light of dawn, Byleth idly wondered if Dimitri had been eaten by a wolf. Probably not, they reasoned. Dimitri looked like he could win in a fight with a wolf.

Before such a daydream could begin in earnest, the faint thud of footsteps alerted them to company. They looked to find Dimitri approaching, leading a horse by the reins. Poking out from the saddlebags seemed to be a strange looking polearm of some kind. Almost glaive like in shape, it was fashioned of some material Byleth could not guess, and almost seemed to glow red at times. Byleth dismissed the latter as a result of their poor sleep. Uncharacteristically, they wanted to make conversation to ask about the weapon, about what it was made of and what it could do, where it came from and how it was maintained. But they said nothing, and the two started on their journey in silence.

The bird was back, Byleth noted as they walked through the undergrowth. A lot more settled than yesterday, it had once again taken perch on Dimitri’s gauntlet, its fierce orange gaze observing everything around it. Suddenly, as they were passing a field bordered by hedgerows, it became suddenly alert, beating its powerful wings to become airbourne. Gliding to the hedgerow, it flew low on one side, waiting. And then, suddenly! Byleth caught the flash of grey as it swooped over the hedge to the other side, and the resulting spray of feathers of its unfortunate prey. And then, just like that, it returned to Dimitri’s arm, dead pigeon in its claws. Dimitri indulged its feeding, gently stroking the hawk’s head with what could only be called a fond expression as the hawk barely reacted to his touch, focused only on its kill. Eventually, when the hawk had eaten its fill, Dimitri took the rest of the pigeon and stored it in his horse’s saddlebags, Byleth still watching intently. Eventually, they spoke up.

“What odd hunting behaviour. I thought only sparrowhawks hunted like that.”

Dimitri hummed. “The bird is unique.” He said nothing more on the matter for the rest of the trip.

…

The journey to Garreg Mach was not far, and they met little company on the trip, which Byleth found odd for Adrestian controlled territory near a treasured fortification. Just after midday, they reached the borders of the monastery proper, and Byleth requested that they stop so they could assess the monastery’s defences and border patrols. Dimitri agreed to this, and was happy to offer information from his own experiences as and when it was needed, but insisted on stopping well before sundown. Luckily, there were still plenty of hours of daylight before them but Byleth agreed to his request even though continuing to scope out the monastery after dark would have had its advantages. Besides, for such a risky operation such as this, it was probably a good idea to get plenty of rest beforehand. 

Moving away from the monastery, they risked a fire and cooked the pigeon. The hawk had, by some chance of fate, picked a plump victim, and Byleth enjoyed the meal perhaps even more so than they enjoyed all their meals. After dinner, Dimitri removed the strange polearm from his saddlebags and set about performing maintenance on it. There was an odd gleam in his eye. Byleth supposed it was alike to anticipation and glee. Whatever it was, it made them uncomfortable, and so they stayed away as Dimitri took care of his weapons, and took care of their own.

At one point, Byleth glanced up as Dimitri was putting his weapon away in his saddlebags. They caught a glimpse inside of another weapon as Dimitri was removing a bedroll, something curved, and seemingly made of the same strange material as Dimitri’s glaive. Byleth wanted to ask, then, but Dimitri was already turning away, headed toward the woods, and the moment was lost. All that was left was for Byleth to get comfortable by the embers of the fire in their own bedroll, and wait for sleep. Like before, it was filled with the howling of wolves.

* * *

Eyes snapping open, Byleth jolted awake in the dead of night. At first, they were unsure just what had awoken them, but that particular confusion soon cleared up when they saw the stranger at their side with a hand on their shoulder. Of course, as Byleth reached for the greatsword at their side, that particular question was replaced with many others, like ‘who was this strange man’ and ‘how did he so easily approach the camp’ and ‘if he wasn’t there to kill them, then what was he here for?’. Just as soon as they were about to take the stranger’s head clean off with their blade, however, the stranger put up his hands in a frantic manner. “Woah woah woah, hey! Hey, don’t kill me just yet, I just want to talk!”

Byleth stared into the man’s twinkling green eyes. The twinkling green eyes stared back, accompanied by a nervously innocent smile. Gaze narrowing, Byleth set down the sword, but didn’t remove their hand from the hilt. The stranger breathed a sigh of relief, and, clearly taking this as a sign to continue, spoke up again.

“I suppose you wouldn’t happen to be Byleth, the Ashen Demon, by any chance?” At Byleth’s slight nod of their head, the man continued. “Thought so, your sword and your…everything kinda gave it away.” He said, gesturing at their everything.

“Why do you want to know?” was Byleth’s answer.

He held up his hands again. “Look, all I want to know is whether you’re with my friend Dimitri, because if you are, as I suspect you are, I need to pass on a message.”  
Byleth didn’t let up their hand from their blade. “You’re not wrong. I’ve been hired on a job by a man named Dimitri, if he is the friend you speak of, but I do not understand why you cannot speak to him yourself.”

For a moment, it was if the smile on the stranger’s face stiffened. Byleth had no idea what it meant, or even if they imagined it, because, like the wind, it was gone just as fast, with no hint to such an expression being there before.

“Well,” the stranger replied, “Dimitri and I seem to have a difference of opinion as to his course of action. You see, I think it is a terrible idea for him to try and take Garreg Mach with only him, and yourself for backup, and an extremely excellent way to get killed. I was hoping that if you told him this yourself, he might listen to you.”

Byleth pursed their lips, but ultimately acquiesced. “Fine. I shall try as you ask.”

The stranger clapped his gloved hands together in pleasure, but before he could speak further, their conversation was interrupted.

For two days now, Byleth’s dreams had been filled with the howling of wolves. They had assumed that it was simply the consequence of an over active imagination, and possibly too much cheese before bed. It was the wrong season and region for wolf activity. These howls, however, were real, and far too close.

Both Byleth and the stranger stiffened, Byleth closing their hand once more around the hilt of their sword, scanning the treeline for a hint of movement. Where was Dimitri? Byleth had seen him enter the thick of the trees the previous evening, presumably to sleep in privacy, but with a wolf about, Byleth could potentially lose a client, and with that, any chance of getting paid. With any luck, they thought, Dimitri’s hunter instincts would alert him to the proximity of the wolf enough to save him.

And there! Byleth caught a flash of yellow in the treeline (the stranger’s obnoxiously golden clothing didn’t help) along with a worryingly large silhouette. As Byleth stared frozen into the menacing yellow eyes of the wolf, they remembered what their father had impressed upon them about wolves since they were small; their jaws were strong enough to bite clean through muscle and bone as easy as a sword rends through flesh. That was why is was of utmost importance to not antagonise a wolf.

Then why did it seem that this stranger had no self-preservation instincts? Byleth turned slowly to see him getting up and heading towards the trees, exactly where the wolf was. At Byleth’s incredulous look, he simply put a hand to his waist and said “Don’t worry, I’m smarter and not as helpless as I seem.” And there was a glint of silver where his gloved hand was. A concealed dagger then. 

Byleth let it go at that, and watched the strange man walk towards the trees. If the man wanted to go and get himself killed, it wasn’t any of their business. They barely knew each other after all, so they were not going to tell him how to live his life. And, if worst came to the worst, they could just fulfil his final request to them in his memory. Even so, Byleth stayed up to listen out for any blood curdling screams of the dying.

They heard nothing as they drifted off to sleep again, neither the strange man or the howling of wolves.

* * *

In the cold morning light of the next day, Byleth brought up the encounter with the strange man with Dimitri.

“Whoever he is, he seems to know you, and know you are attempting this strike on the monastery. He seems to think it is a bad idea for you to do this, and has asked me to tell you not to go through with it.”

Dimitri eyed them for a moment. “Yes, I know him.” He said eventually. “But I will not abandon my plan. There is nothing else left, but this.”

Byleth did not know what to make of his strange statement, or the strange look on his face that appeared when talking about the man from last night. So they ignored it and focused on ordering their supplies. After a while, another thought came to them.

“You didn’t happen to see or hear any wolves last night?”

Dimitri paused for a while. “No.”

Byleth hummed with thought. “I thought I saw one last night. Quite large, with yellow eyes. Fortunate that it did not attack us in self defense.”

“You must be mistaken.” Was the immediate answer. “Wolves don’t come this far south, especially in this season.”

“Then you didn’t hear anything?” Byleth asked.

“No.” was Dimitri’s firm response.

Byleth narrowed their eyes, but didn’t say anything. They were not good at reading people, that they know well, but they were sure now that Dimitri was lying. Why, they didn’t know, but it cast all the strange expressions and statements Dimitri had made before into a new light. Hopefully, none of this affected the day’s mission, but Byleth resolved to further pursue any strange behaviour Dimitri might make in the future.

Dimitri had unwrapped his strange polearm, and was giving it a quick examination. In the light of the morning up close, it seemed to emanate the red of blood, even though none had yet been spilled. Somehow, to Byleth, that seemed like a portent.

…

The attack on the monastery had started out well enough. They had caught the Imperial patrol as they entered the treeline and ambushed them, wiping them out quickly enough that they were not able to alert their allies. From there, the two had a limited amount of time until the main force noticed that their patrol had not come back to get inside the monastery walls before the border defences were tightened. From there it would just be a matter of killing their way to the Emperor.  
The monastery was a highly defensible position, surrounded on all sides by sheer sides. The only way to get in besides a perilous climb would be through the town. Again, speed was their friend here, and the guards were complacent, so between them, stealth kills ensured none of them raised the alarm. From here, their entrance options opened up as Dimitri was familiar with the layout of the monastery and the surrounding area.

Dimitri had said he knew of a hidden back way in from the market. As they had made their through the town proper, Byleth allowed themselves to be cautiously optimistic. Getting past the guards had been the hard part. The challenge of getting through the elite personal guards inside the monastery was still ahead but had been planned for. Now it was just about getting inside the monastery grounds.

Unfortunately, this is where things fell apart.

Turning through the ruined walls, the pair ran straight into a contingent of guards, and they seemed just as shocked as Dimitri and Byleth at seeing each other, staring eye to eye in almost comical fashion before sense gripped both parties once again. Drawing weapons, Byleth smashed the head off of the nearest hapless guards with the force of the Armourslayer, while Dimitri began skewering the rest with his lance. It had not been particularly difficult, with the crushed bodies pooling blood on the cobbles, but the damage had been done. Likely the whole town’s worth of soldiers had heard the battle and would be looking for intruders. And they still weren’t in the monastery.

Beckoning to Byleth, Dimitri continued running up his path to the monastery, Byleth close behind. It would now be a matter of who was faster into the monastery grounds before security was tightened. It would be cut fine, and Byleth imagined that from there things would be much tougher, but there was still a chance this would still work. It would have to, because an attack such as this would probably not work again.

Suddenly, Byleth’s face smashed into something hard. Rubbing their nose (Dimitri’s armour was about as tough as it looked) they looked to see why Dimitri had stopped so abruptly. He was very still, gauntleted hands clenching on his lance so tightly that Byleth could almost hear it creaking, looking ahead with such vitriol it was a wonder that the ambush before them hadn’t dropped dead on the spot.

Before them was a group of (presumably) Imperial mages, looking ready to cast at the drop of a pin. In front of the group stood a man in black, and so pale that he seemed almost vampiric.

“Hubert.” Dimitri growled.

“Did you not think we wouldn’t know of this route?” Hubert replied coldly. “We were both at the academy. I knew that this was the route you would think of first.” His white gloved hands lit up with purple fire. “Now I have you, and I will not make the same mistakes again!”

Suddenly, his hands were clutching his face. Dimitri’s hawk was flapping its wings in a cloud of feathers, screeching furiously, talons scraping at Hubert’s face while his hands tried desperately to protect his eyes. The bird, Byleth mused offhandedly, must’ve swooped down in a hurry from where it had been wheeling overhead to attack him. Either the bird was insanely loyal or it could somehow sense danger. Byleth was not sure which to believe as they readied their greatsword for battle.  
Hubert’s band of mages, in a panic over seeing their commander’s eyes being clawed at by a very angry hawk, were readying their own dark spells. Dimitri was already charging them, caught up in some kind of murderous fury as Hubert tried to bat the hawk off of him.

There was no way out but through. Byleth stepped in and their blade crushed the ribcage of an unfortunate warlock. As his broken body crumpled to the ground to make a mess of the street, Byleth quickly looked over to Dimitri, who was spearing mages left and right with his strange lance, with so much force blood was splattering on the walls of surrounding buildings and he had to prise bodies off of the tip of his lance with his armoured boot. All the while he was focused on Hubert with a deadly, single minded gaze like a predator stalking its prey. Byleth’s instincts were warning them to his danger, like a primal fear of seeing a lion on the hunt. It shook them to their core.

Hubert now had claw and scratch marks littered on his face and torn into his gloves, though his eyes were saved, with the deep blood red contrasting the paleness of his skin, staining and blossoming on the white of his gloves. His once cold demeanor was livid, as he shook off the bird.

“I have had enough of this!” he snarled, and, opening his palm, started gathering magical energy. Dimitri ran full tilt towards him, trying to take him down before he could cast. But it was too late.

Hubert let loose a bolt of pure fire, straight at Dimitri. At such close range, Dimitri could not dodge in time.

Except, when it was over, Dimitri was still standing. Lying at his feet, however, was the bird, badly scorched.

Dimitri’s lance clattered to the ground, scooping up the bird and ensconcing it in his cloak. Byleth was close enough to see the laboured rise and fall of the bird’s tiny chest, and the spot on its breast where it had been hit with Hubert’s magic. That bird had been too fast for Byleth to catch its flight in the commotion of that flight, but it must’ve flown directly into the path of that spell. If there were trained falcons that loyal, Byleth did not know.

Dimitri, sheet white, was focused entirely on the bird in his arms now. There was no one but Byleth to see Hubert preparing another spell.

When Hubert let the dark magic loose, it met the flat of Byleth’s greatsword, reflecting it back to its caster and catching Hubert in the shoulder. As Hubert stumbled backwards, Byleth grabbed Dimitri by the shoulder and tugged him around the corner of a building. 

It was like entering a whole new reality, with the sounds of battle having died down with Hubert retreating and the change of scenery. As if sensing that, Dimitri woke up from whatever daze he had found himself in, just staring at Byleth as if at some kind of loss.

Byleth just stared back. “Well, now what?” was all they said, gesturing at the surrounding mess.

Dimitri looked at Byleth, then back at the bird, then back at Byleth again. Byleth could almost see gears turning in his mind. After a moment he seemed to come to some kind of decision.

“You’re smaller than me.” He stated. “You’ll ride faster. I need you to do something for me. Take my horse, and this bird, and ride to the Fraldarius estate in eastern Faerghus. Give the bird to the Duke. Tell him it was me who sent you, and give him this.” He dropped something blue into Byleth’s hand, but they didn’t take a moment to look at it, just putting it away. “I’ll follow you and meet you there. …I know this wasn’t in our agreement, but _please_.”

Dimitri was desperate. If Byleth were a lesser mercenary, they would have capitalised on this.

Instead, they silently accepted the bird, wrapped in the cloak, and slipped away back to the forest. They did not look back.

* * *

Riding hard to the north, the air quickly turned chill. Byleth had been on jobs in Faerghus with their father and his men before, but they mainly had stayed to the southern regions. Now, as they rode out of Galatea, they found they had to throw Dimitri’s fur cloak over themselves as well as the bird. In the saddle they had applied what little field medicine they knew to the wound on the bird’s breast, but Byleth knew it would take someone with proper training in the white magic arts to save the bird. Before, Byleth had never needed any faith other than in their sword and swordhand; now, they could finally understand why some men prayed to a goddess before battle. In a corner of their mind not numbed by blood and battle, they searched for a hope that the bird would recover fully, that they would find a healer in Fraldarius lands, and that the bird could reunite with Dimitri once again. And they also searched for answers; why this spark of emotion had been fanned for Dimitri and this bird, both of whom they barely knew? And what unknown wind had done this?

In all their years, Byleth had only felt this breadth of emotion for their father Jeralt, who they loved with all they could, and he the same for his child. Their father was a practical man; if they had told him that they truly believed they had stumbled onto their destiny, that the meeting with Dimitri had been fate at work, Byleth believed that their father would have laughed. But there was no denying that they were in deeper into something than a mere mercenary job, and that something had changed deep within them, something that they could never come back from.

…

When Byleth rode into the Fraldarius estate, the sun was nearing the horizon. Ignoring the soldier milling about trying to approach them, they rode Dimitri’s tired horse up to the doors. Dismounting, clutching the bird swathed in the huge fur cloak, Byleth approached the guard on duty at the doors. The guard appears both suspicious and intimidated by Byleth. They supposed that their huge sword didn’t help matters.

“I would like to see the Duke. Dimitri sent me. I will wait out here, please give the Duke this.” They passed over the item Dimitri had given them, a finely crafted brooch in the shape of a lion’s head, with a blue ribbon attached. They had no idea what significance such an object held for Dimitri or the Duke, but as long as it worked, Byleth wouldn’t ask questions.

The guard walked off, hopefully to do as Byleth asked, though still looking a bit suspicious of them. Byleth could only wonder why, since this was one of their more successful interactions with strangers. There had been a lot of memorable moments with their father’s group of meeting clients that ended with anyone other than Byleth chosen to meet clients.

Byleth was patient; they had been prepared to wait a while outside for the Duke’s reply. They did not expect that the Duke would open the doors himself to greet them. Who they supposed was the Duke was a middle aged man dressed well in fur lined clothes. Looking around, he spotted Byleth and began striding over to them. Byleth, never having had any etiquette training, simply stood there as he approached.

“You must be the one Dimitri sent, yes? What news is there of him?” he all but blurted out.

Byleth held out the bundle. “He just said to give you this. The bird needs medical attention.”

Gingerly, the Duke took the bundle from Byleth and lifted a corner to see the extent of the injury. Judging by his face the bird’s situation had not improved. Flagging a passing soldier, the Duke turned to give Byleth a questioning look. Byleth could only shrug; they barely understood the situation themselves.

Speaking quietly to the soldier and sending him away, the Duke turned back to Byleth, a welcoming smile on his face. “Ah, please forgive my manners, I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius, the Duke of this region. You must have ridden far and hard to get here. Please, come inside and rest, and you can tell me everything that has transpired. I’ll have someone take care of your horse.” He turned towards the doors. “And what is your name?”

“Byleth.” Said Byleth.

Rodrigue’s eyebrows raised. “The Ashen Demon? I have heard much about you. They say you are blessed with peerless combat in battle. You must be a great ally to- Ah!” He turned, sheepish, to Byleth. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to ramble my thoughts aloud.” 

Byleth raised their eyebrows. They wondered what he was going to say.

Passing over the threshold, Byleth saw a green haired man in fine clerical dress pacing a groove in the flags of the entry hall. He looked up at Rodrigue’s approach.

“Lord Rodrigue, I heard you had sent for a healer-” he said, turning toward them and approaching the Duke.

“Our visitor Byleth has delivered this bird from Dimitri. It’s injured.” Rodrigue cut in, proffering the bundle to the other man could see.  
Leaning forward, the green haired man peered into the cloak.

At that moment Byleth saw a series of expressions flicker across that man’s face, each more confusing than the last, in just a matter of moments. The man leaned back, lips pursed.

“Flayn is in the gardens. I’ll take the bird to her for treatment.” Turning to Byleth, he addressed them now. “Flayn is learned and talented in white magic, rest assured the bird is in good hands.”

“Thank you, Seteth.” Rodrigue smiled, clearly relieved.

The man Seteth walked away with the bundle, though the strange expression was still on his face. Rodrigue turned once more to Byleth. “Now then, shall we have tea together? I am eager to hear your tale…”

…

Byleth talked until well after sundown, more than they had ever talked before. Rodrigue sat listening intently, occasionally asking questions about Dimitri. Near to the end of their tale, Seteth entered the drawing room in which they were sat.

“Your… bird is in stable condition now, which should hopefully set your minds at rest. Flayn tells me that all he needs now is rest.” He spoke, eyes occasionally darting towards Byleth in a strange manner they couldn’t decipher. His words were also strange, they thought, but they simply turned back to their tea.

Rodrigue gestured to a seat beside him. “Please, join us Seteth. Byleth, Seteth is the advisor of the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, and a friend of Faerghus. Seteth, you’ve met Byleth, a renowned mercenary. You may be interested to hear that Dimitri hired their services?”

Seteth raised his eyebrows. “And whatever may that be for?”

“As I’ve been told, he had recently, and on multiple other occasions, attempted an attack on the monastery, in an effort to relieve it from Imperial control.”

“Hm,” Seteth tapped his chin. “Our goals align in retaking the monastery. Why not request the aid of his country? We all would have surely offered our forces. And for that matter, why not tell us he was alive after all this time? Why now?”

“You are right,” Rodrigue sighed. “I am, however, just glad to hear he is alive. I look forward to seeing him soon…” Suddenly glanced up back at Byleth, sitting with a teacup in hand and a blank expression. “Ah! My apologies once again! Please, allow me to explain.

“You are aware of Adrestia’s ambush of Garreg Mach?” At Byleth’s nod he continued. “The Adrestian strike force utterly decimated the King’s forces and the Leicester squadron stationed there. Both His Majesty, King Dimitri of Faerghus, and Claude, the Duke Riegan were pronounced missing presumed dead. Although no bodies were recovered as proof of their demise, this was enough to break the spirit of the coalition of our countries and the Adrestian Empire capitalised on it to push into the west of Faerghus. This is where the situation stands as of today. We are unable to push an offensive on the monastery again, what with our forces already occupied preventing the western border from being pushed back any further, and Leicester with defending their own borders and negotiating at the Roundtable now that there is no Sovereign Duke to lead them.

“However, if Dimitri is alive…” Rodrigue tailed off.

“This would change everything.” Seteth picked up from Rodrigue. “With the boosted morale of the men, we may have just enough resources and numbers to take Garreg Mach again. From there, we can finally push into the heart of Adrestia.”

Byleth sat with teacup in hand, stunned. There was so much information to process their brain was not quite sure what to start with. Even disregarding the apparent fact that they had been traipsing around with the _King of Faerghus_ they had also apparently singlehandedly changed the tide in a war and lifted morale of the forces of Faerghus by delivering a bird.

Perhaps sensing their internal crisis, Rodrigue smiled kindly on then. “It is late now, I should let you rest. I’ll have someone show you to a guest room. I once again would like to thank you on behalf of the kingdom of Faerghus; you have no idea what you’ve done for us.” He stood now. “Now please, if you two can excuse me, I’ll take my leave to contact our allies and assemble our War Cabinet.

Bidding them goodnight, Rodrigue strode out of the room. Seteth stood also along with Byleth, and they left. As a servant took Byleth to their room, they caught Seteth again with that strange expression on his face.

* * *

Byleth awoke in the most plush bed they had probably slept in ever, moonbeam falling across their face from where they had not closed the curtains of the four poster correctly. Yet, they knew that this was not the reason they had woken, though they couldn’t quite place just what the reason was yet.

Confused, they sat up in the bed, frowning. Although they could not think of any reason to be awake, they knew somehow intrinsically that any effort to go back to sleep now would be fruitless.

Then, they felt it. Some kind of mental nudge, the urge to get out of bed now and go down the corridor. Moving on instinct, their body obeyed.

Slipping out of the door, bare feet silent on the cold floorboards, they crept down the corridor. Not really sure where they were going, relying solely on their gut feeling, Byleth turned a corner where lamps were still burning. Their eyes zeroed in on a seemingly innocuous door in that corridor, sensing that there was where they were meant to be. 

It was like there was a voice whispering in their head, telling them to open that door and look at who was inside, that it was important to their situation. They were already approaching the door without even realising, hand outstretched to the door handle, and then they were turning it and opening the door and peering in-

And there, lying on the bed, was the strange man from the night before the monastery. Peeking out from the bandages on his chest were what appeared to be faint burn marks.

As Byleth stood in the doorway, reeling from the incredible truth just dawning on them, the stranger cracked open his eyes.

“Er, surprise?”

…

When the young woman entered Byleth was still staring at the stranger in shock. The only logical conclusion they could come to about this situation was that the stranger and the bird were one and the same, and yet, even after all the things Byleth had seen this had no precedent.

The young woman, humming some kind of tune, bumped into Byleth’s back. “Oh, my! My deepest apologies!” she exclaimed, abashed, and patting Byleth’s back where she had bumped into them in a futile but overall appreciated manner.

The stranger’s face lit up. “Oh, hey Flayn! Long time, no see!”

“Oh Claude, looks like you’re up!” The young woman, Flayn, went to his side, fussing over his bandages. “Don’t get up just yet, you’ll still need to rest this off.”

Byleth, feeling increasingly lost, wondered dimly that Flayn seemed oddly calm about having this man, Claude, in a bed considering that she had presumably been handed a bird to tend to.

Some of this inner turmoil must have, somehow, shown on their face, as when Flayn looked up to them she seemed rather sheepish again. Claude also had the sense to look slightly abashed. “Ah,” she clasped her hands in front of her. “You must be terribly confused.”

“Let me explain to you.” Claude looked to Byleth. “It’s rather a long story…”

…

“That day in the monastery, we were unprepared for the attack. Dimitri and I were in the Cardinal’s room, reviewing the battle maps when they came in through the windows. Our guard squadron was quickly killed and we weren’t carrying our Relics on us; Dimitri had no problem killing the enemy mages with his bare hands and I had a dagger on me but there was no question that we were woefully outclassed against the Imperial mages. I did manage to burn our documentation before it was over though…

“At that point they had us at out mercy, and I confess that I really did think that would be the end. But I could tell the type those lot were; the type to make you suffer before the end. I’ve seen them before. So before trying to land any death blows, I watched as one of them cast some kind of dark spell. After that, it was all a bit hazy. I could tell my vision was off, my surroundings looked so strange for something so familiar… I don’t know how long it took to realise I was a goshawk, while Dimitri was still human. I won’t forget the look on his face when he saw me…”

“I can reflect now as a man that I did not keep my human intelligence as a bird. I think I flew out of the broken window pretty quickly, and Dimitri I think used that distraction to follow. Either way, we weren’t caught before they scrambled their search efforts to track us down. I think he ran all day as I followed in the air. Even with my limited bird intelligence, I knew that he was safe, he was home, and I stayed with him. And then, at sunset…

“When the sun had set, I was human again. I was amazed, until I turned to Dimitri, and found a wolf in his place. And then I could finally feel what he must have felt when he saw the hawk that was me for the first time.

“He didn’t stay with me that night, though I knew he was near. It was in the pain of that night that I realised the horror and cruelty of what had been done to us. To be with each other whilst so far apart, with just enough time every day and night to be able to lament it… I’ve seen the malice of man and monster both up close but I can barely fathom the one who dreamt up something such as this.

“I had been so stupid… all my life I have relied on my own wits to survive, but we loved each other so much that I was careless enough to let down my guard. It must’ve been one misstep, or one time where we weren’t quite private enough, that such information could be leaked to the enemy. And this is the price we paid.

“I was willing to swallow my pride and return to our allies, to all of you, and hopefully figure this out together. But it seemed Dimitri wanted to attack the monastery. And we’ve been stuck ever since.”

…

At the end of Claude’s tale, Byleth looked up to see Seteth standing in the doorway of the room, a solemn look on his face.

“My apologies, Claude. I was passing by and overheard your voice. It was not my intention to eavesdrop on your conversation.”

“None taken.” Claude smiled his pasted on smile. Byleth didn’t know who he was fooling, not even them, who was not good with facial expressions. Maybe he just felt he needed to have control over something for a change.

Byleth spoke up. “May I ask,” and they turned to Seteth and Flayn, “how you knew of this curse? You both did not seem very surprised.”

Flayn seemed abashed while Seteth sighed. “Even though magic is not my specialty, I could sense this dark curse as one notices dirt on white linen. Such magic is old, and we are unfortunately familiar with it. But enough of that,” and he turned back to Claude, “I think I do know of a way out of your predicament.”

For all of Claude’s cunning and facades, he could not quite mask his hope. “Oh? Do tell.”

Seteth continued. “In a couple of months it’ll be the Millennium Festival, marking one thousand years since the monastery’s founding. Unfortunately, we, of course, cannot celebrate the event since the monastery is in enemy hands, but surely, Claude, you are aware of the legend surrounding the Goddesss Tower on that day.”

Claude’s eyes twinkled. “Everyone at the monastery knew.” Turning to Byleth, who certainly didn’t know, he elaborated. “Legend has it, that on Garreg Mach Founding Day, the day of the Millennium Festival, if two people meet at the Goddess Tower and make a wish together, it will be granted by the Goddess. So you’re suggesting, Seteth, that Dimitri and I wish to the Goddess together on the Millennium Festival to break the curse? Well, I hate to break it to you that we can’t wish together since one of us will be an animal at the time.”

“I thought you might say that,” and with that Seteth produced a well-made and well-worn star map. “This is one of the Archbishop’s star charts that I rescued on the day of the first attack on the monastery. I think you will be interested to know that on the day of the Millennium Festival,” he spread out the map on Claude’s bedspread, “there will be a total solar eclipse. I’m sure I don’t need to impress upon you how rare such an occurrence is. If I am correct about the stipulations of the curse, one of you is human under the Sun, whilst the other is human under the Moon. But on a day without night and a night without day… well, you will be capable of making your wishes together.

“This is as the Goddess wishes it. I know it so.”

…

Byleth sat with Claude all that night until just before sunrise, long after Seteth and Flayn had left. They enjoyed Claude’s company, partly because he could do all the talking so they could just stay quiet and listen like they preferred. But also because of his easy personality, for when his mask slipped and his true face shone through, his idealism and optimism was magnetic.

He had said to them, “I had no hope for so long, that every night alone had slowly become normal, and I suppose I just forgot how it used to be. But I guess you could call me a gambler, a risk taker. I wouldn’t be here today if I wasn’t. I intend to be back in the monastery for the Millennium Festival, to try and break the curse. After all, it couldn’t hurt to try, and find out.”

Byleth, having heard his tragic story, was surprised at themselves at how much they wanted that too.

They left Claude in his room just before sunrise, for privacy when the inevitable happened. When they peeked into the room later, the bed contained only a bird that flapped its wings feebly when Byleth came near.

That day, they did not know quite what to do with themselves, now that all there was left to do was wait, and they ended up joining the Fraldarius knight in their training sessions until the evening, when they dined with Lord Rodrigue’s household as his guest.

Sitting at Rodrigue’s right hand was a young, stern man, introduced as Rodrigue’s son, Felix. He seemed to also be not much of a talker, which suited Byleth just fine, as they imagined it did him, but made dinner rather awkward for Rodrigue, who kept trying to make conversation.

At the end of dinner, however, he spoke up. “I’ve been hearing from my friends. Sylvain and Ingrid will be here tomorrow, and apparently the rest of the old Blue Lions class will be here the day after at the earliest. Letters haven’t arrived from Leicester yet but the old Golden Deer class will probably start arriving next week.”

“That’s good to hear, it’ll be nice to see everyone again. Gilbert and the rest of the Knights of Seiros will be here tomorrow. Are you looking forward to seeing your friends again Felix?”

Felix scoffed. “It’s not exactly a class reunion.”

“And what about Dimitri? Aren’t you glad to hear he’s alive?”

“He could’ve stood to have shown his face a little sooner, if you ask me.”

Rodrigue made a disappointed face. “Felix, that’s no way to talk about His Majesty.”

Felix pushed back his chair. “Whatever.” Standing, he walked out, leaving Rodrigue looking embarrassed and Byleth feeling awkward. After apologising profusely for his son, Rodrigue left as well for his work, leaving Byleth also free to leave.

As they exited the dining hall however, they spotted Felix hovering around and scowling at the tapestries. When he spotted Byleth, he stalked over, leaving Byleth without the option of fleeing.

“So you’re the Ashen Demon? You managed to get the boar to come back to his country?” was all he said.

Byleth nodded.

He huffed and turned his face away, remaining silent for some time. When he spoke, all he said was a soft “…thanks.”

Byleth let him walk away, and judged it wise to never bring up this moment again. It was unlikely there would be a repeat instance.

…

That night, their dreams were plagued with the howling of wolves. When Byleth woke up that morning they took that to mean Dimitri had arrived. And sure enough, not long after dawn, Byleth heard that Dimitri had arrived at the doors. When they stepped into Rodrigue’s drawing room, they saw Dimitri there talking with Rodrigue and Seteth, having had his freshly laundered cloak returned to him. The change in Rodrigue was palpable; relief crinkled in his eyes, and he had a comforting hand on Dimitri’s gauntlet. Seteth must have caught up Rodrigue in private after Claude’s tale that night.

Seeing Byleth enter, Dimitri stood to greet them. “It is good to see you again. You have my most sincere thanks for your help.”

Byleth shrugged in response. “It was nothing.”

“Well, it was not nothing to me.” Something about Dimitri’s face changed. Byleth thought it might be that his eyes were smiling.

Just then, the door to the drawing room slammed open again, and Felix stood in the doorway, staring in barely disguised shock at Dimitri, with Dimitri also with barely disguised shock back.

In a flash, Felix was by Dimitri’s side, and slugged him on the arm (Rodrigue looked as if he would die of shock). “Now you finally decide to turn up.” Felix grumbled, pointedly looking away from Dimitri’s face. “Sylvain and Ingrid are arriving today, with everyone else to follow. Whatever mess you’ve got yourself into, I guess we’ll have to help you get out of it.”

Dimitri put his hand gently on Felix’s shoulder. “I missed you too.”

And that, it seems, was that. When Dimitri’s other friends arrived, things were definitely more emotional, the red headed Sylvain and the blonde Ingrid both going in for embraces, even if they acted differently about it. Over the next couple of weeks, more and more people filtered into the Fraldarius estate, with Byleth having to remember the names of an increasing number of people. Sometimes they wondered just how many friends Dimitri and Claude had, as they escaped to the training grounds. If he were here, their father would probably be proud at how much progress they were making at interacting with other people, but that didn’t stop it from getting to be too much too fast at points. What was interesting though, was that Felix often joined Byleth at the training grounds with his sword, looking for a sparring partner (and he was definitely a good swordsman). Clearly, Byleth must have passed some unspoken test the other day, and simply agreed to his offer every time.

War councils were held both day and night, since both Dimitri and Claude wanted to be present for them, but could not be at the same time for reasons explained to the new cohort. And so, steadily, a plan was hatched. Everyone had agreed; if Dimitri and Claude needed to be in Garreg Mach for the Millennium Festival, then they would get them in. The combined forces of loyalist Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance would band together for one big push for the monastery, which would give the small group consisting just of Dimitri, Claude, and Byleth a chance to sneak into the monastery, undetected and overlooked. Once in, they could cause the maximum amount of damage from the inside in the confusion.

Byleth could tell that Claude was in his element, with all the scheming and his cunning; they saw life in him that they had not yet seen before, and he proposed many of the ideas. Dimitri, however, acted as if he was waiting, almost as a predator scopes out its prey.

Byleth had cornered Dimitri one morning soon after he had arrived. They had seen Seteth draw him aside and talk to him privately. Byleth didn’t know how to describe the expression on Dimitri’s face afterwards except as dazed. They asked Dimitri then if Seteth had told them of the potential cursebreaker and Dimitri had said yes. Byleth then asked what he thought of it.

Dimitri had shook his head. “It hasn’t changed my mind. I will still end this war. I will still kill Edelgard.”

“You could miss your chance to break the curse on you.”

Dimitri huffed and turned away. “I’m not holding out hope. I have a solid chance to kill the Emperor and end the war once and for all, I won’t waste in on something that may not even work.”

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “Do you not have hope, or faith?”

“I hold them only for the things I can see and feel around me. I have hope that we can win this war and usher in an era of peace and prosperity for all Fódlan, and I have faith in my friends and allies. But the Goddess… do not take me to be impious, I have no doubt that the Goddess exists. But I do not believe that She is the kind to intervene in the affairs of mortals. Is the world around us not proof of the Goddess’ apathy? Where is She when Her children are suffering around her? No, I believe that even if Claude and I pray to Her with everything we have, they will not be answered. The Goddess will not reach out Her hand to Her children, and Her children cannot reach it. That is all.” He walked away then, face decidedly grim. Byleth did not ask again.

…

Time passed, and the date of the attack drew ever nearer. A week before the date, Byleth, Dimitri and the bird that was Claude set out in advance for Garreg Mach. Dimitri still had not changed his mind about his plan, and Byleth was privately worried. Having spent much time with the two, they had become… accustomed to them, and the thought of them having to spend the rest of their lives so far apart made their stomach lurch horribly. They had taken many contracts with clients before, helped and protected many, and never had they felt such a strong bond with one as they did now. They felt as if a fire was lit within them, fanned for so long by that wind unknown, that made them want to fight for and protect their new charges, to wish so desperately that they could have the happy ending together that they deserved. These thoughts echoed and echoed around in their head that journey, like a mantra or a prayer.

They camped by a river that night, still so far north that chunks of ice bobbed with the currents. Byleth caught two fish with their travel rod that their father had helped them make, whilst the sun set. Dimitri disappeared into the coming darkness, and Claude emerged, and together, they lit the fire and roasted the fish. Claude seemed to enjoy dinner, which made Byleth feel glad, though they were not sure if was because it was fish in particular.

In the encircling darkness came the sounds of soft padding and crunching twigs. Claude, staring out of the ring of firelight, said, “He likes to patrol the perimeter. I think he’s protective.” He turned back to Byleth. “Don’t worry about him, he can hunt his own dinner.” Byleth had no doubt about that, eyeing the yellow eyes of the wolf.

His padding lulled them to sleep that night. Maybe that was why Byleth awoke that night, in the dark at the cusp of the grey of dawn. It had gone eerily silent, except for the ringing in their head, the scream of danger in their gut. Slowly, they reached for the handle of Armourslayer beside them, the shadowy silhouette of Claude reaching for something in his bedroll. 

Against the starlight, they could see the moving silhouettes of armoured men, creeping slowly towards them. Byleth’s hand found their sword. They counted their even breaths…

Then, with a growl and a cry, one of the silhouettes went down with a wolf clamped around his throat. As the rest of the soldiers gripped their weapons, Byleth used the distraction to spring to their feet in a whirl of efficiency, and smash a silhouette across the back. A hatted opponent let loose a fire attack, which let Byleth the flame red colours of the soldiers. The colours of the Adrestian Empire. An patrol ambush, then.

Byleth dodged, and the fire went wide, lighting some dried grass and providing light to the battlefield. Byleth looked to their side to see Claude burying his hidden dagger into the neck of an unfortunate solider, right in the gap between helmet and breastplate and pauldron. The blood spray misted his face, and Byleth suddenly found it quite hard to remember his jovial attitude just hours prior. 

Now, with no stealth advantage, but with newfound expanded vision, they went fully on the attack, taking advantage of their sword’s weight and bludgeoning potential. With a man on each side, they swung in a wide arc, hoping to catch both of them. One went down, ribcage crushed, but the other dodged with unfortunate swiftness. Just as Byleth was about to try and down the remaining soldier on the return before he could retaliate with his own blade, a feathered shaft protruded from his neck and the soldier slumped to the ground. Byleth turned to see Claude by Dimitri’s horse (which looked about seconds away from bolting), arm still raised, holding a peculiar bow. Made from the same alien material as Dimitri’s lance, something glowed red at its centre, and Byleth surmised that it was the same artefact that they had spotted in Dimitri’s saddlebags all those days ago. 

Leaving Claude to calm the horse, Byleth continued to fend off the Imperial ambush, the ferocity of the wolf already enough the frighten and demoralise the enemy, many already having gone down being mauled. Soon enough, Claude’s support continued with a rain of arrows, leading many to turn and run straight into Byleth’s sword and the jaws of the wolf.

In the grey before the dawn, the last man standing was the fire mage, having lent support with his magic attacks. The wolf stalked up to him, growling low with blood matting its muzzle. Backed up to the white river, there was nowhere for the mage to run. When the wolf lunged, he threw up his arms to protect his face, leading the wolf to clamp down on his forearm, tearing through the flesh and cracking the bone immediately. Whilst Byleth had seen some of the other men scream and try and bat the wolf off, this man seemed different, perhaps a testament as to why he had survived until now. Seeing the rushing river behind him, he threw himself backwards into the water, taking the wolf with him. The wolf hit the rocks in the river, dislodging from the mage’s arm and, dazed, tried to right itself and swim for the banks, made difficult by the currents.

Claude raised his bow again and a split second later the mage was dead, bobbing in the water with a blossoming cloud of red trailing in the current. Then both he and Byleth were running to the banks, as the wolf was struggling to stay aloft in the river. Sluggish due to the freezing cold, it had resorted to putting its forepaws on a clod of ice to keep afloat, but it wouldn’t last forever. Byleth, being closer, reached the river first and wasted no time wading in, with no mind to the ice cold temperature and trying not to think about the risk of exposure. Up close, the wolf was massive. Trying to keep themselves grounded, they grabbed the black and white fur of the wolf and heaved, dragging the wolf closer. Soon, they felt hands grabbing the back of their collar, and Claude, on the bank, was dragging them both out of the river. With their combined strength, Byleth and the sodden wolf heaved their way onto the riverbank, collapsing in exhaustion. Claude, stripping off his silk cloak, moved to try and warm the wolf as best he could, while Byleth starting divesting themselves of their wet clothes and boots.

It was at that moment, staring at a pile of wet clothes and many other bodies in the field, only in their undershirt, that they felt a warm ray of light strike their face. Byleth looked up to see the first rays of dawn before them chasing out the grey of the night, and washing the skies in pink and gold. Slowly, it advanced towards the river, where Claude knelt before the wolf.

In that beautiful moment, Byleth saw Claude lit up in the golden sunrise, Dimitri shadowed in the previous night. And then, it changed. Slowly, the puddles of shadow around the wolf formed a man, gazing up at his love as the moon gazes at the sun, and with one disbelieving hand, Dimitri reached up to Claude, as if needing reassurance that this was real.

But it was too late, for as his gauntleted hand reached Claude it met only air, as Claude had since melted into light, and all that was left was a hawk swooping towards the sun. 

…

Byleth knew that they would never forget the look on Dimitri’s face then. They swore, then, that with the power invested in them, Dimitri and Claude would be at the Goddess Tower under the eclipse together.

Under the light of the new day, they let Dimitri pass them by, still clutching Claude’s cloak and staring at it like a lost puppy. Their hand on his arm was ignored.

“I’m fine.” Was all Dimitri said. He stood there for some time, facing away from Byleth, and they waited. Eventually, he turned around again, eyes red. “Tell Claude that I’ll see him at the Goddess Tower. And that I have an idea for a plan…”

* * *

At night a covered wagon rolled up to the gates of Garreg Mach town. There were two tired guards on duty; Byleth, in their borrowed clothes, hoped that they would be tired enough that Claude’s plan would work.

“Halt!” One of the guards, carrying a lantern, put up a hand and approached the wagon. Claude, who had been nominated the speaker of this plan, jumped down.

“Ah, my good fellows!” he responded with an annoying amount of cheer. Even in roughspun clothes and smelling of horse, Claude still exuded such a friendly and charismatic personality that could put people at ease, and indeed, the guard, while still suspicious, waited to hear Claude out. “We are but merchants, trading in pelts and furs. We simply need a place to stop for the night, since it is late and we would rather not risk being raided by bandits, and also so we can prepare a new pelt! I can promise you, we will be in business tomorrow, for whatever needs you might have!”

By now, the other guard had joined the first, and they were both listening.

“You see, my companion over there,” and he waved at Byleth, who, deep in their hoods, did not react, “managed to trap a wolf we found in the woods. Acting rather aggressive, it was, could have attacked anybody. Might as well put the poor beast to use as a lovely pelt to keep you warm in the winter. I’ve been hearing that it’s only going to get colder during Guardian Moon, so it’s probably better to stock up on some more furs,” he chuckled now, “can’t imagine you poor soldiers get given thick blankets.”

One of the guards hummed thoughtfully. “My feet have been getting cold.” He muttered.

Claude latched onto it. “And you’d think that the Empire could afford better conditions for their soldiers if they can afford this war.” He tutted. “I mean, you’re the ones fighting it, they should treat you better. What I think you should do is get some of your friends and go talk to your superiors about better conditions. I bet they could make those better blankets happen. Must be able to, if they can afford this war. In the meantime, my friend and I will be selling our wares tomorrow, to tide you over.” He finished off with a wink.

One guard was nodding, the other blank. “Let me see your wares.” The other guard asked.

“Oh certainly!” Claude moved away to the wagon. “Just be careful, the wolf is back here. It’s caged though, so don’t worry too much.”

With the guard and lantern in tow, Claude lifted the tarpaulin from the wagon. Inside, amongst an array of skins and furs, was an iron cage. Inside it, head on its paws, was the wolf. Under the lantern light, it lifted its head and growled. The guard jumped back. “Uh- yeah, everything seems in order.” He stammered.

“C’mon, man,” the first guard crossed his arms, “Let’s just let them through, I’m freezing!”

“Yeah, I could do with some furs on my bed.” Muttered the other. “Alright, you’re in, move along.”

“Thank you, my good men, you won’t regret this!” said Claude, as he hopped back on the wagon. As the wagon trundled through the gates into the town proper, Byleth did their best to hide their face in the shadows. If those men saw their face and linked them to the earlier attack, all of this would have been for nothing. 

But no, the guards were too busy complaining to each other to look too closely. Byleth breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re telling me,” murmured Claude to them, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Once inside, their cover as merchants would allow them to stick around town. Once the attack started from the joint Faerghus-Leicester forces hidden outside the walls however, they would be able to slip inside the monastery in the confusion, where the Goddess Tower would await.

As the cart rolled on, Byleth looked over to Claude. “Soon.” He murmured. “Soon…”

…

The day dawned bright on the fateful day. Byleth had set up their merchant shop as cover in case any guards came to check on them, though, thankfully, none seemed too interested. Luckily, the two from last night didn’t turn up (perhaps too early for them after their night shift), so Byleth didn’t have to worry about questions as to Claude’s whereabouts, and risk them seeing their face. However, that didn’t mean that other merchant civilians weren’t interested in a nice pelt for the winter, and so Byleth had to complete transactions as best they could. After a few goes they figured it wasn’t too different to negotiating contracts with clients, which made them feel more confident.

Dimitri was hiding back in the covered wagon, preparing his weapons. Though still noticeably anticipatory, the mania in his eyes had at least simmered down to a less frightening level. After dawn that day, he had pulled Byleth aside for a moment. “I am forever grateful for your help these last few days,” he had said with utter sincerity. “You have already gone above and beyond for myself, Claude, and our friends. You needn’t risk your life again today if you do not wish.”

Byleth cocked their head. “I agreed to help you take the monastery. I have not yet done so.” And that was that.

Indeed, Byleth was not quite sure where such a sense of loyalty had come from. It was not a matter of pride or honour that they were so adamant on seeing this through. Somewhere deep inside, they felt some sense of anticipation as well. There was no denying to themselves now that they were attached, and had meant every word of their mantra to see Dimitri and Claude to a happy ending. The feeling to protect, to nurture…

Their thoughts were cut off by a sudden commotion from the direction of the gates. Yelling, the clashing of steel… yes, the attack had begun. The other merchants looked around fearfully as more soldiers ran towards the entrance to provide support. A few of them stopped in the town to urge the merchant civilians to take cover and get inside the monastery walls. Not one to pass up such a brilliant opportunity to have a reason to run for the monastery, Byleth gathered up their things (including their covered sword) and slapped the side of the wagon to alert Dimitri. Quickly, he emerged, covered in a long rough spun cloak to hide his face, armour, and lance. They joined a gaggle of other merchants vying for the monastery walls, keeping to the middle to avoid catching the eyes of the guards, already on high alert. Once inside, the merchant group was herded by Imperial soldiers to an inner room to wait out the attack, but the chaos was enough at that point, and the guards so frazzled that it was easy for Byleth and Dimitri to slip away from the back down another corridor. Now it was just up for Dimitri to lead the way to the Cathedral.

As they passed through unkempt gardens and trampled lawns, Byleth looked up at the sky. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on the world below, but there was no sign of the moon yet. The bird was still a bird. They would have to wait.

Taking the doors from the classrooms of the Officers Academy (long since abandoned) to the end of the reception hall, they turned to see the bridge. Getting over it would be the most tricky, as there was no cover. They would just have to dash for it.

Checking over his shoulder to make sure no one was looking their way, Dimitri and Byleth started walking over. Although not a particularly long walk, every second felt like an hour and every inch felt like a mile with the constant paranoia churning within them. Byleth had to constantly remind themselves not to keep looking over their shoulder, and to walk with confidence instead, else they would look even more suspicious. Just to have something to do, they looked up at the sky again. The sun was still there and fully unobstructed, but if they squinted, they could almost imagine a dark shape across the edge of the sun.

When they reached the half way point of the bridge, they started to run, judging the distance to the reception hall to be far enough. Under the raised portcullis and into the Cathedral proper, their footsteps echoed under the arched stone roof, discarding their disguises behind a pew. Byleth couldn’t help but look around in awe despite the urgency of the situation; even in its disrepair, the Cathedral radiated a quiet majesty from its magnificent majesty, focusing attention and reverence onto the altar, covered in rubble though it were. Its hush and beams of light from the stained glass made the place feel truly holy, as if the Goddess was here.

Byleth peered through the stained glass window and out into the sky. Yes, there was no denying it now. The shadow of the moon was beginning to cross the sun. Soon, the solar eclipse would start, and both Dimitri and Claude could both be human before the Goddess, and She would receive their solemn wish.

Dimitri had strode ahead to the left of the Cathedral, to the balcony and walkway to the Tower. Across a short bridge it stood, visibly ancient, covered in ivy. Byleth saw Dimitri hold out his gauntlet, and in a flash, the hawk returned to him, hopefully for the last time. Now they just needed to wait…

“You…” 

Byleth whipped around, coming face to face with Hubert and his dark mage posse.

“Reports from our wyvern riders said that they saw suspicious figures crossing the bridge. I guess I know now why you aren’t leading your army.” Hubert looked pointedly at Dimitri. “Make your peace with your Goddess; you were lucky last we met, but I will rectify my mistakes today!”

Dimitri held out his arm, and sent the hawk away into the air. “Hubert. This ends today.” Lifting his lance, his glare narrowed to his opponent, his fury focused to the tip of his weapon. Byleth unsheathed the Armourslayer, hefting it high with both hands.

Then, the sharp echoing sound of shoes on stone came to Byleth’s ears, and they turned to see an unfamiliar woman with a strange axe walking through the archway towards them. Steely gaze and ornamental horns, she was draped in the red of Adrestia. Byleth could only assume that this was the Emperor.

“Your Majesty!” Hubert approached the Emperor only to be waved back. The Emperor strode confidently in front of her men to Dimitri.

“Dimitri.” She said.

“Edelgard.” He answered. There was some intensity in his voice, something in her face. More than anything, Byleth felt like an intruder into something private, and fought the urge to look away.

“I’m impressed,” Edelgard raised her eyebrows. “I had expected you to try and assault the gates and storm your way inside with your forces. Yet you use that as a distraction to challenge me while my army is occupied? It’s not quite your style.”

“El…” Dimitri sighed. “Either we open negotiations and come to a peaceful resolution, or you die today. I will not hesitate to kill you if I must; I just hope that no more lives will be lost needlessly.”

“A futile effort.” She looked away. “I cannot compromise my ideals, much as I think you are the same.” Her expression softened. “A nice thought, but unrealistic. Then, to the death it is.”

She lifted her gaze again, and all traces of doubt and weakness were cleansed. “Hubert, you know what to do.”

“As you wish, Lady Edelgard.” She stood back and Hubert gestured to his men. As Byleth and Dimitri began fending off ranged magical attacks, Byleth stole a glimpse at the sky. The eclipse was well and truly underway now, with more than half of the sun covered. It wouldn’t be long now until the moon fully covered the sun. 

Inwardly, they started making plans. Maybe they could hold of the magical attacks and the Imperial advance while Dimitri and Claude broke the curse? Would it be too risky? Surely Hubert and Edelgard would take advantage of such a distraction. What Byleth needed was a decisive victory today, now.

Speaking of, Byleth glanced over to see what Dimitri was doing. He was close to the parapet, blocking magical attacks with the flat of his lance. Byleth was just in time to see him slice off the hands of an unfortunate dark mage who got too close, with the glaive-like blade of his polearm. As the mage retreated, trembling, Hubert made his advance, raising a column of dark energy beneath Dimitri. While Dimitri dodged which not much issue, Hubert was within his range. While Byleth had no trouble imagining Dimitri breaking bones with his bare hands, a blur from the sky caught their attention. The goshawk had returned, it seemed, speeding with claws out towards Hubert’s face almost too fast to catch. Hubert, however, had also seen this. He held out a hand, and dark magic struck the bird from the air, and all Dimitri and Byleth could do was watch as the bird plummeted out of the sky. It would be a long fall. If the bird did not come to consciousness and right itself, then it would be the end.

“You cannot fool me twice.” Was all Hubert said, as Dimitri leaned bodily over the parapet.

Dimitri remained that way for some time before slowly pushing away from the parapet, ignorant of the waning sunlight. When he turned around, though, Byleth felt such ice pool in their stomach that they were almost hit by a flying ice attack. As they turned to defend, they could not forget what they saw on Dimitri’s face. That cold fury, the hate and despair of a man with nothing left to lose.

When Byleth next turned around again, Hubert was already dead. Dimitri’s lance was protruding from his chest, and his face was still contorted in an expression of horror.

The day was dark now. The moon covered the sun fully now, not that it seemed to matter anymore. Half of the mage group was still up and fighting, seemingly undeterred that their commander was dead. Dimitri was making no moves to defend himself, still staring at Hubert’s corpse, leaving Byleth to the defence. In a way, they were still in shock. After all this time and coming all this way, _this_ is how it ends? They couldn’t quite believe it. There had to be _some_ glimmer of hope left…

And then, Byleth felt a wind and a shadow pass over them, ruffling their clothes. Bewildered, they looked up, and a majestic shape swept over them. It was a full grown wyvern, pure white in colour, passing over the eclipse. Something stirred in Byleth’s memory. Yes, one of Claude’s friends they met at the Fraldarius estate, a pink haired girl named Hilda, had been complaining about having to stable a white wyvern, a favour for Claude, she had said with some optimism.

It would make sense, Byleth supposed, that they would bring it with the rest of their wyvern corps, with the hope that today their Duke would ride it again. And it was indeed kitted with tack and saddle, bow strapped on. As the white wyvern rose up and over the parapet, Byleth could also see it had a rider.

As the wyvern alighted on the stones before the Goddess Tower, the rider dismounted, and Byleth heard Dimitri behind them audibly gasp. Claude walked grimly towards them, holding his bow. Visibly injured from the magic Hubert had thrown at him, he walked straight by Byleth and Dimitri to approach Edelgard, whose eyes were still flickering between Claude and Dimitri and her friend’s corpse pooling blood on the flags and back again to repeat the cycle. The dark mages, supposedly from seeing their curse violated, flocked behind the Emperor, as if her might alone could protect them from the wrath of love.

Stony faced, Claude approached them, and from his hand he flung something at their feet, stained immediately with spilt blood on contact with the ground. They were the jesses of a hawk. Claude said nothing; from his face and eyes, there was nothing that needed to be spoken, and he turned away.

As Dimitri and Claude finally embraced in a desperate rush, Edelgard, still staring at the ground at the blood soaked jesses, gripped her axe and motioned to her remaining men for their attention. In response, Byleth readied their sword. This was it then. This was the end. Movement from the corner of her eye confirmed that Dimitri and Claude knew this too, standing with her with hands still fastened. As they readied their respective weapons, Byleth was able to notice how they carried themselves differently just in their small moments, seeming so much lighter than they had ever witnessed the, buoyed by hope or something akin to it. Compared to the desperation of grief Byleth had seen in Dimitri earlier, the certainty of love was an even more powerful motivator.

Even with the support of their Emperor, swinging her war axe in great two handed sweeps, the morale of the mages had worsened. Aside from Hubert’s corpse, they seemed unnerved watching Dimitri impale and Claude shoot. Indeed, the pair seemed to know this, and so many of the mages fell to them. Edelgard, for the most part, remained behind to utilise her shield where possible, and so a close range approach was needed where Claude’s arrows were blocked. Leaving Dimitri and Claude to deal with the mages that had wronged them, Byleth waded through panicking warlocks and corpses to Edelgard, hoping that their great sword would be enough to break her defence.

Sweeping aside her guards with a swing of the Armourbreaker, amidst the crack of bones they spun for an even greater attack aimed at her shield, but Edelgard caught it on her axe and shield and deflected its momentum away. Byleth thrust back with the pommel of the sword, and Edelgard was lucky to move her face before it could crack a cheekbone. With a flash of red and gold, Byleth raised their sword just in time to block a shield bash, but in turn didn’t see the low swing of the axe, which swept them off their feet to slam onto the ground with the blood. Dazed, they peered up at Edelgard raising her axe two handed for a finishing blow, and mustered the energy to roll aside to see the axe crack the flags next to their head. They needed to get up, but even using their sword as leverage, it proved difficult with the blood slicking the already well-worn stone, and they had to drop again to avoid another swing strong enough to take their head clean off.

Taking advantage of their low position, Byleth quickly braced themselves on the ground with their sword and swung out their leg, managing to catch the back of Edelgard’s knees to send her stumbling. While she righted herself, Byleth used the opportunity to get back to their feet. From there, they didn’t let up, running towards Edelgard and preparing a weighty swing. Dimly, as they did so, they became aware of a lack of ambient battle sound around them. Maybe Dimitri and Claude had finished up and could help them out.

All of this flitted through their mind and away again as Byleth pressed the advangtage against Edelgard. Seeing them wind up to attack, Edelgard once more raised her axe and shield in hopes to deflect it again, but she wasn’t quick enough this time. With the full force of a great sword, Byleth caught the edge of her shield and sent it flying, robbing Edelgard of her defence. 

Only sparing a moment to stare after the shield hitting the ground, Edelgard shifted both her hands to her axe, preparing to throw her full weight behind the offensive, and Byleth recognised as where this would get dangerous. Although slow, the power behind each strike would be nothing to sneeze at, and if they weren’t careful, limbs, or worse, could be lost with little trouble. 

Backing up, Byleth focused on dodging strikes while trying to find an opening to attack without losing an arm or having their ribs crushed in the process. Stepping over bodies, Edelgard raised her arms for another blow when a rush of air ruffled Byleth’s hair, and an arrow shaft suddenly protruded from Edelgard’s hand. Gritting her teeth, she was forced to drop it from the shaft of her axe. Looking back, Byleth saw Claude draw his bow back again, and with another rush of wind, there was an arrow in Edelgard’s shoulder, and she dropped the axe. Before she could do anything else, Byleth had their sword at her neck.

“Give it up.” Came Claude’s voice from behind. Byleth didn’t need to turn to know he had nocked another arrow.

From Byleth’s close up perspective, Edelgard looked absolutely incensed. Her gloved hands twitched.

“Wait.” Came another voice, Dimitri’s. He came into Byleth’s field of view, bloody lance in one hand, though not raised. When he raised his head to look at Edelgard, his face was neutral, filled with neither love nor hate. “El.” His face softened a fraction. “It’s over. You know it. So let’s negotiate.” At Dimitri’s signal, Byleth lowered their sword a fraction, though they were still on alert. “I don’t understand why you started this war El. So many people have killed and died for this. Please, help me understand why that had to happen. It’s not too late.” Slowly, he held out his hand to her with surprising gentleness, a peace offering. Edelgard stared at it with unabashed shock.

“You always were a bleeding heart Dimitri…” she murmured. She looked up. “And that’s why you can never understand this. You’re too gentle to do what must be done to tear up the roots of the old system and start anew. I’m sorry…” She closed her eyes, and suddenly her hand went to the inside of her coat, and she was lunging with a knife.

For a moment, things were in slow motion. Byleth raised their sword again, but it didn’t seem fast enough. The blade just seemed to inch closer and closer to Edelgard’s hand, which in turn, was inching closer and closer to Dimitri.

And then, it was over. Edelgard, for a moment, stood still, with an arrow in her heart, and her gloved hand lying severed on the stone, knife still in limp grip. Then she was slumped dead to the ground, eyes still wide with shock.

Claude walked over, lowering his bow, and stood over what was Edelgard. “She forgot about me.” He said quietly. “I did what I had to do.”

Slowly, Byleth grabbed their sleeve and wiped the blood from their blade, and sheathed it. They walked over to Dimitri, who was staring expressionless, at Edelgard’s face, at her hand, and put a hand on his arm. When he responded to their touch, they offered their hand to him. And, slowly, he accepted.

Gripping Dimitri’s hand firmly, Byleth turned and offered Claude their other, and Claude smiled a genuine smile and gripped it gladly. Slowly, the three made their slow procession to the steps of the Goddess Tower. There, Byleth placed their hands in each other’s grip, and stood back to watch the curse break. As they stood there watching Dimitri and Claude be so engrossed in each other to become their own world, Byleth felt something warm unfold in their chest, and they caught themselves making some strange expression. Their facial muscles were aching slightly from their lack of use, and they checked in a puddle. It was a wide smile, an expression they had not had much reason to use before, save perhaps for their father, who used it much more than they did. Yet it felt so natural now, for those two they cherished, and those the two in turn cherished. Byleth was truly happy in that moment.

As the moon passed by the sun, both Dimitri and Claude stayed human, and when the whole sun shone in the sky, no one was in any doubt that the curse was lifted. It was then they left, stopping only for Dimitri, as he gently knelt over the corpse of Edelgard, closing her eyes so that she may finally know peace. With nothing left to stay for, the three of them left to show hope to their people.

* * *

In the years that followed, the war for the Unification of Fódlan was ended, with the last of Adrestia’s territories ceding some months after the death of the Emperor. From there, all countries focused on recovering and rebuilding from the war. Much reformation policy came from the desk of King Dimitri, now king of Faeghus and the united territories of Fódlan, including foreign policy with Fódlan’s neighbours that Byleth’s sources (read: Dimitri’s friends) suspected were ideas from Claude before he renounced his titles and disappeared. 

Coincidentally to that news, trade negotiations had been opened with Almyra and its new king, and when those ended in a suspiciously short amount of time, Byleth could not bring themselves to be surprised that it was Claude, now King Khalid of Almyra, on the throne. Naturally, the wedding was next, and Byleth received a lovely invitation from the express messenger.

It was an extravagant affair, of course, with two kings being married, and a lot of important nobles did some double takes at seeing Byleth there. However, they were far outshone by the many warm welcomes they received from their friends who were also in attendance. There, they watched together as Dimitri and Claude were married in the eyes of the Goddess.

Afterwards, they greeted the happy couple and embraced them. They were theirs, and they were home.

**Author's Note:**

> Did i manage to get this out in time for fe3h 1 year anniversary? 
> 
> honestly i can't believe i finished this. huge thanks to my friend patrick for helping me, supporting me, and generally putting up with me and this fic.
> 
> i really hope you guys like this. im jazzapples3 on tumblr if you want to find me.


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